What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar?
by E Chiove
Summary: Complete! Most of the crew is stranded on a sandy planet... with only one Klondike bar. Can't they all just get along?
1. Default Chapter

What would you do for a Klondike bar??? By LikeAStone  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Paramount except the Klondike bar.  
  
Chef sat up suddenly and surveyed the scene. The crew lay unconsciously among each other and cactus-like plants that seemed to be the only life on the whole planet. The shuttlepod had been crashed into a large rock formation and was still smoldering slightly.  
  
"Who's idea was it to let the captain fly this away mission, anyway?" wondered Chef aloud as he searched Archer's body for a communicator, "and why do these uniforms have to have so many pockets?"  
  
"T'pol?" asked a groggy Archer as Chef frisked his thigh and found the communicator.  
  
"Shhh. go back to sleep." Chef coaxed the captain. The last thing he wanted was for the captain to wake up and make him go sauté some cactus for breakfast. He unzipped the captain's pocket and pulled out the little box.  
  
"Shit" muttered Chef as he tossed the red GameBoy over his shoulder. He then sat back on his heels and surveyed the remaining crewmembers. Tucker and Porthos were still on the Enterprise but everyone else was here. He spotted Reed laying partly under the sub-commander.  
  
Bingo.  
  
He gently placed his arms around T'pol's waist and lifted her off of Reed.  
  
"Jonathon?" asked T'pol sleepily.  
  
"It's O.K. I gotcha. Go back to sleep." The last thing Chef wanted was for T'pol to wake up and order him to make cactus-polmeek soup for her.  
  
A communicator was in Reed's breast pocket, right next to a tazer.  
  
Chef took the tazer too.  
  
"Chef to Enterprise."  
  
"Commander Tucker here."  
  
"Commander, we have crash-landed on the surface due to some sucky piloting by the captain."  
  
"Yeah. I thought so. Rostov n I kinda screwed with the landing jets a bit. Haha."  
  
"No, this crash was completely pilot error. You didn't even need to sabotage."  
  
"Damn. Ya mean my tampering was all in vain? Well, are the captain and the sub-commander dead?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"How much longer 'till they die?"  
  
"How should I know? I'm a gourmet cook not a mere doctor."  
  
"Jeez. Keep yer shirt on."  
  
"So, Commander? Gonna help us here, or what?"  
  
"Let me get back ta ya." Tucker pressed the handy dandy hold feature and Lori Line blared from the communicator in Chef's hand.  
  
"Shit." Said Chef as he slammed it closed, shuddered, and stuck it in his back pocket.  
  
"Hey, I like that song," said Travis, getting to his feet.  
  
"He speaks?" asked Archer incredulously.  
  
"I didn't think he spoke, eye-ther," said Reed.  
  
Phlox ran his scanner over Travis's body, "It would appear that Ensign Mayweather is possessed."  
  
Travis's head spun 360 degrees and his eyes rolled back in his head revealing the whites of his eyeballs.  
  
Reed drew his phase pistol.  
  
"Wait! Stop!" screamed Hoshi, "I can talk to demons!"  
  
Travis did the splits and let out a mighty growl.  
  
"RRRR-jaaa-huuu-mkkkcgh," said Hoshi.  
  
Travis glanced up from the ground.  
  
"ChumbaWumba," said Travis.  
  
"Duybwimjinkgyx?" asked Hoshi.  
  
"Oogachucka"  
  
"It refuses to leave Travis," explained Hoshi, beginning to panic.  
  
Reed shot him.  
  
"My hero," said Archer.  
  
"Jerk," said Hoshi.  
  
"Ow!! My crotch!!!!!!!!" screamed Travis as he came to.  
  
"Do the splits again, Mayweather. That was so cool."  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!" Chef suddenly cried, jumping around awkwardly with his hand on his butt. He finally took the communicator out of his pocket and held it in his hand. "R-R-R-e-e-e-e-da-da-da, why-y-y-y do-o- o you-oo-oo have th-th-th-this th-I-I-I-ing on vi-I-I-I-I-bra-a-a-ate???"  
  
Reed blushed, "For uh.. tactical reasons."  
  
"Wh-wh-wh-e-e-e-res the fre-e-e-e-e-eking ta-a-lk buta-ta-ta-on?"  
  
He finally found it.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Hey, Chef. It's Captain Tucker. We've tried everything short of sending our other shuttlepod down there to get you, and now we are forced to give up. We're leaving orbit now. Give Malcolm a hug for me."  
  
Then the Enterprise left the orbit of the planet and 7 crewmembers were stranded with little more than a GameBoy, the ashes of a shuttlepod, and a half-melted Klondike bar which was tucked safely into one of the pockets of Chef's uniform. 


	2. How to Eat Fried Cactus

What would you do for a Klondike bar?? (Probably not as much as I would do for some reviews..Hint. Hint. Nudge. Nudge.)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise. But Christmas is coming up so maybe..  
  
"Hey, Chef. What can you make out of a cactus?" askedArcher.  
  
A captain pin cushion.  
  
"I could maybe roast it, except we don't have a fire."  
  
"Perhaps if we stoked the shuttlepod a bit," suggested T'pol with a raised eyebrow, "That would compensate for the energy needed to, as you say, roast it."  
  
"Gute Idee," said Hoshi. (German for good idea) "But I'm parched."  
  
"Ja, und?" (yeah, so) said Chef "Go do a rain dance then."  
  
Meanwhile Back on the Enterprise  
  
Captain Tucker's personal log.  
  
I have decided to rename the ship. From hereuntohenceforth I shall be Captain Charles Tucker the Third of the StarShip ExterminatorOfAllLameAssBastardMotherFuckinYellowBelliedXindi. End Log.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
Bah-Ram-Yew Bah-Ram-Yew  
  
Hoshi dipped her head and moved her hands as she chanted.  
  
"I don't think the Native Americans ever did the macareena," commented Reed from where he sat polishing his pistol.  
  
"Bah-Ram-Yew. May the gods of rain.. Hail on you." Hoshi wiggled her butt, "And don't you have anything to do besides play with your gun?"  
  
"Sorry. it's what I do when I'm bored," Malcolm put his phase pistol away.  
  
"Breakfast's ready!" yelled Chef.  
  
Everyone gathered around the fricaséd shuttlepod and stared at the cooked cactus.  
  
"I just remembered that I'm on a diet," said Hoshi.  
  
"I just remembered that I'm anorexic," explained Archer.  
  
"Don't worry," said a cheerful Phlox, "Cactus is a negative calorie food. It takes your body more calories to digest all those needles then you get from eating them."  
  
"You first," challenged Archer.  
  
"Uh.. I'll be fine.. I can just eat my toenails."  
  
"Sub-commander? Lieutenant?" pressed Chef.  
  
"Due to my superior species, I do not need to eat as often as you Neanderthals."  
  
"I'm not hungry," Blushed Reed as his stomach growled.  
  
Archer cut in, "What about you, Chef?"  
  
"Ugh. I never eat anything that I make myself."  
  
"I guess that leaves Travis."  
  
"Here you go. Bon appetít"  
  
"That'll put hair on your chest."  
  
"Remember not to talk with food in your mouth, Trav. Haha." 


	3. Cacti Venom and Belly Buttons

WWYDFAKB Ch. 3 by Like A Stone  
  
AN: rosalicious - thank you!!!!! My first ever reviewer!!! Soultoast - cute penname!! Nala - vielen dank To everyone else: Ya know ya wanna review this. Ya know ya wanna. Don't make me beg.  
  
Disclaimer: what would happen if I didn't do one??  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
"Wait!" screamed Phlox as Travis lifted the cactus to his open mouth.  
  
Travis, startled, dropped it.  
  
"Just like I thought," Phlox said as he examined it closer, "It's poisonous."  
  
"Eeeeeeeeee!" shrieked Hoshi, "You mean Travis almost died???"  
  
Just then the cactus started shaking.  
  
"Bite me, Travis!! Bite me!!!" It wailed.  
  
Hoshi gasped.  
  
"Eat me, Travis!!! Eat me." it continued, "Lich ich!"  
  
ZOOOM!  
  
"Nice shot, Lieutenant," said Phlox.  
  
"Ow!" screamed Archer, as he grabbed his stomach and fell to the sand.  
  
"Jonathon?" T'pol was over him in a second, "Are you O.K?"  
  
"No.. I am in considerable pain. a cactus needle got me in the **gasp** belly button. I don't know if I can make it."  
  
"What were you doing with your shirt off, Captain?"  
  
"Berman and **gasp** Braga always make me **gasp** go shirtless whenever possible. Something about **gasp** ratings. Besides, **gasp**, if you've got it, flaunt it."  
  
"Is he going to die?" asked T'pol, near tears.  
  
Phlox considered it for a moment. "No, he'll be fine as long as we get the cacti venom out of him."  
  
"How do we do that?" asked Reed, as he began to rub his phase pistol.  
  
"Stop doing that!" said Hoshi.  
  
"What? Oh, sorry, it's what I do when I'm worried."  
  
Phlox continued, "All we have to do is get someone to suck the poison out of him before it spreads to the rest of his body. Any volunteers?"  
  
"I'm a linguist, not a leech!" exclaimed Hoshi.  
  
:"OK. I guess that leaves me," said Phlox as he licked his lips.  
  
"Hey! What about me?" said T'pol, "As sub-commander it is my responsibility to suck out cacti venom from the captain's navel."  
  
"What about me?" asked Reed, "I am supposed to keep everyone safe and if my mouth has to make contact with the captain's skin to do so, then so be it."  
  
"But I'm the one who is responsible for this whole thing," tried Chef.  
  
"If you guys can't decide, I'll have to pick a number 1-100 and whoever's closest has to save the captain," resolved Hoshi.  
  
"Fitty" said Reed.  
  
"Fitty?" asked T'pol with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah, fitty, ya dig?"  
  
"I didn't know you spoke ghetto," said Hoshi.  
  
"Well, yeah, it's my black heritage. I can't help it. I am actually a direct descendant of Malcolm X which is where I got my name." Reed shrugged.  
  
"Whatever." Said T'pol, "I say fifty-one."  
  
"51.00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001," Phlox said.  
  
"Pi," said Chef.  
  
"I change mine to fitty fo'," said Reed.  
  
"Aw, screw it, you guys are too confusing. Let's just draw straws," said an exasperated linguist.  
  
To make a long story short (including where the straws came from) Quiet Travis drew the shortest straw.  
  
"Cheater!" exclaimed Phlox.  
  
"Yeah, I thought we was tight and here yo' go playin me, bra," Reed began to touch his phase pistol.  
  
"Malcolm!!! Stop doing that!!" cried Hoshi, blushing.  
  
"What? Oh, sorry, ya'll. I jus' be doin it when I be pissed, yo."  
  
TBC 


	4. Fiddlesticks aka Fate of Rostov

Spoilers: mild spoiler for Twilight - but only in the disclaimer  
  
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Reed would have facial hair more often  
  
AN: muchas gracias to my reviewers.  
  
Back on the Ship Formerly Known as Enterprise  
  
"Report" commanded Tucker as he entered the mess hall.  
  
"We are all out of pecan pie," said an ensign in an apron.  
  
"Fiddlesticks," muttered Tucker, "Doesn't anybody know how to make pecan pie?"  
  
"It was Chef's secret recipe," shrugged the ensign.  
  
Tucker scanned the mess hall quickly. "You!"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. Fly us back to the planet that we just came from. Warp 5"  
  
"Aye, aye, captain."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Hoshi watched Travis crouched over Archer's still form, his mouth on the captain's midsection.  
  
"It's a Kodak moment," laughed Hoshi.  
  
"Hey, I'm missing a tazer!" exclaimed Reed suddenly as he patted the side of his uniform.  
  
Chef shrugged, "I'm sure it will turn up."  
  
Reed went off to pray to Saint Anthony, patron saint of lost items.  
  
"I never knew that he was religious," said Hoshi.  
  
"There are many things that you may never know," said Chef as he fingered the tazer in his pocket, "Many things."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Tucker sat in the captain's chair, drumming his fingers on the arm rest.  
  
"What was that noise?" he asked the pilot.  
  
The young pilot turned dejectedly from the controls, "The warp engines just quit."  
  
"Fiddlesticks. Get Commander Rostov to fix them. I'll be in my ready room."  
  
"Wait, sir," said a redheaded crewman from Hoshi's station, "Commander Rostov does not appear to be on the ship."  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"You sent him onto the outside of the ship to replace 'Enterprise NX-01' with 'ExterminatorOfAllLameAssBastardMotherFuckinYellowBelliedXindi' over an hour ago."  
  
"Well, int [SIC] he done yet?"  
  
"Um. sir? He must have fallen off when we went to warp."  
  
"Shit."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Travis collapsed on the ground next to Archer, panting heavily.  
  
Phlox examined Archer quickly and proclaimed him healthy.  
  
"Ensign Mayweather, you saved your captain's life today," said Archer as he reached for Travis's shoulder, "I am promoting you to Lieutenant- Commander."  
  
Reed gasped, "You mean HE outranks ME?"  
  
"You're quick," Archer stood up, "And actually I'm demoting you to ensign."  
  
"Wha?" said Reed, "You can't do that!"  
  
"Watch me."  
  
"It's because I'm black isn't it?" Reed glared, "You are a racist asshole."  
  
"No, it is not because you're black."  
  
"It's because I'm Christian, isn't it? You are a creedist asshole."  
  
"No, it is not because you're Christian."  
  
"It's because I'm gay, isn't it? You are a homophobic asshole."  
  
"No, it is not because you're gay."  
  
"It's because I'm short isn't it? You are a heightest asshole."  
  
"No, it is not because you're short."  
  
"Then why the hell did you just demote me?" asked Reed.  
  
Archer shrugged, "Because I can."  
  
Reed paused as he let reality sink in.  
  
"Oh, screw you!" Reed finally cried.  
  
"Screw yourself."  
  
Reed's mouth fell open.  
  
"And that's an order." 


	5. Who gets the Bar? Who gets pudding? Who...

Fluffy Lemonn - I have put you in this chapter. You are not really a character, per se. But you are in here. Chapter 5 of What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar by Like A Stone  
  
"I'm hungry," Hoshi whined, "And I'm thirsty too."  
  
"Suck it up," Reed said as he finished polishing his gun and put it away.  
  
"You shut your pie hole, Crewman."  
  
"Amen" agreed Chef  
  
"You shut up, too" Hoshi told him.  
  
"Hey, I don't take orders from you! You don't outrank me!"  
  
"You do not have a rank - therefore I clearly outrank you - so zip it."  
  
"Somebody's menstrating," muttered T'pol from where she sat against the cave wall.  
  
The crew had all gathered in the cave to escape the heat.  
  
"You and your pointy little ears can just STFU as well, OK?" Hoshi sighed and leaned back against her part of the wall. "Oh, what I wouldn't do for a Klondike bar..."  
  
Chef perked up.  
  
"What would you do?" he asked, cautiously.  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Would you have slept with that telepathic horned beast from 'Exile' who wanted you to be his companion?"  
  
"I actually DID sleep with him." Hoshi said, "But I would do it again."  
  
"Would you polish Malcolm's pistol?" T'pol asked, getting into the spirit of things.  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"I would," spoke up Archer.  
  
Chef pulled out his Klondike Bar, "Please don't. I have trouble sleeping at night as it is."  
  
"I'll do my sexy dance for that," yelled out Hoshi.  
  
"I'll do MY sexy dance," said Phlox.  
  
"Oh, please," said a disgusted Vulcan.  
  
"Hey, what would YOU do for a Klondike bar, Sub-commander?" asked Chef, dangling it in the air.  
  
T'pol stared at it, mesmerized, "I would cut off my left breast for that," she drooled.  
  
"If I had a left breast," began Archer, whimsically, "I would cut it off for that too."  
  
"What would you do, Reed?" asked Hoshi suddenly. She felt bad about biting his head off earlier.  
  
Reed looked up from the Bible in his hands. "The question is not what I would do for a Klondike bar. No, the question is What Would Jesus Do For a Klondike Bar?"  
  
There was a brief pause before Phlox broke the silence by screaming out "I'll let mud leeches feed off of my left testicle...."  
  
"If I had a left testicle," Began Archer, whimsically.  
  
"You don't have a left testicle?!" Hoshi asked.  
  
"No," Archer shook his head, "It's actually a rather interesting story. You see I was at the park with my dad one day. He warned me not to walk on top of the monkey bars because I might slip and...."  
  
Right then his communicator chirped.  
  
"Archer."  
  
"Hello," said Tucker smoothly on the other side, "This is Captain Tucker of the starship ExterminatorOfAllLameAssBastardMotherFuckinYellowBelliedXindi. If you ever want to be rescued, you will send Chef into the middle of the desert so that we can come and get him and only him. Once we have him (and more pecan pie) we will come back for the rest of you."  
  
Sweat began to drip from Archer's brow as he contemplated his next diplomatic move. He opted for reverse psychology. "We don't want to be rescued."  
  
"Reverse psychology does not work on me," Tucker laughed.  
  
"It's opposite day," said Archer, "Reverse psychology DOES work on you today."  
  
"If it is opposite day...." Tucker countered, "Then that means that it is NOT opposite day."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes means no."  
  
"No means yes."  
  
"Yes, it doesn't!"  
  
"No, it does!"  
  
"Yeah - huh."  
  
"Look, if you don't release Chef, then I am going to tell everyone about how you only have one ball."  
  
"I don't care," Archer said nonchalantly.  
  
"Does that reverse psychology actually WORK on ANYONE?" Tucker asked.  
  
"It works on me," Archer said, "Wait, I mean it DOESN'T work on me."  
  
"I'll be sure to NOT remember that." Tucker sighed. "Well, I have some scheming to do," he said "And then I am going to go at myself in your ready room. But then I'll call you back."  
  
Tucker got up from the captain's chair, cracked his back and headed towards the turbo-lift. When he arrived in the mess-hall, he headed straight to the kitchen.  
  
"Any luck?" he asked his team of experts who were working on discovering a recipe for pecan pie.  
  
He pouted when he was told no, and then headed back out into the eating area, and grabbed a bowl of Fluffy Lemonn Pudding off of the rack. He sat at the middle of a table, facing the stars.  
  
"MMMMMMMMM!!!!!! This is delicious!!!!!!!!!" Tucker suddenly cried out. Fluffy Lemonn Pudding was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. "Not too chunky. Just the right amount of fluff. And the lemons!!! Oh, the lemons!!!"  
  
He stormed back into the kitchen.  
  
"Who made this pudding?!" he screamed.  
  
Everyone froze.  
  
"Whoever did it.... somebody promote him or her!!! It's the best thing I ever had!!! Oh, and you all can quit working on the pecan pie thing. Find whoever made this pudding and have them make more!"  
  
A pretty, petite, blonde Ensign stepped forward and coughed slightly.  
  
"Sir? Rostov was the one who made that pudding. Sir, it was his own secret recipe."  
  
"Fiddlesticks," muttered Trip, "OK, we are going to go find Rostov."  
  
The team stared at him with their mouths wide open.  
  
"Oh, by the way," Trip added, "Archer only has one testicle."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 12.56 minutes later  
  
"Archer here," Archer responded.  
  
"I changed my mind," Tucker said, "I don't want you to send Chef out into the desert for us to come get him. I don't want him anymore."  
  
And Tucker hung up.  
  
"Hmmmm...." Archer stroked his chin thoughtfully. "OK, Chef, go out into the middle of the desert."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"That's what Trip DOESN'T want, right? Haha! We sure fooled him."  
  
Chef pointed the tazer at Archer's head, "You can't make me! You don't even have two balls!"  
  
ZOOOM  
  
"Nice shot, Reed," Archer said.  
  
"Oh, it really wasn't that hard..." Reed said modestly, "It was almost pointblank - like this."  
  
ZOOOM  
  
He shot Archer.  
  
ZOOOM  
  
T'pol.  
  
ZOOOM  
  
Missed Hoshi.  
  
ZOOOM  
  
Missed Hoshi again.  
  
ZOOOM  
  
Hit Hoshi.  
  
ZOOOM  
  
Phlox.  
  
"Wait. Stop." Mayweather said quietly from where he stood in the shadows, "Violence is not the answer."  
  
"No," Reed agreed, "It's the question - and the answer is yes."  
  
He raised his gun to Mayweather.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Mayweather asked, taking a step into the light, "Isn't there another way?"  
  
"I am doing it for the Klondike bar."  
  
ZOOOM  
  
Reed gave a small triumphant smirk and then reached out and plucked the Klondike bar from Chef's lifeless fingers.  
  
He had already eaten almost half of it before he remembered. He dropped the bar in the sand and lay down in a fetal position, clutching his stomach. He moaned aloud and then began to scream loudly.  
  
How had he forgotten that he was fatally allergic to icecream?  
  
EPILOGUE By the time Tucker and ExterminatorOfAllLameAssBastardMotherFuckinYellowBelliedXindi reached the spot where they lost Rostov, the pudding-making engineer had been captured by the Xindi. This added a new impetus to Tucker's hatred of the aliens and lead to his eventual order to destroy their homeworld. Today, Tucker lives in a growing psychological help for humans home on Vulcan where he reportedly only supplies two answers to ink blot tests - "Fluffy Lemonn Pudding" and "Archer's remaining testicle." 


End file.
